


could this be light

by mysterious_minds



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Dancing, these are some Tags huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterious_minds/pseuds/mysterious_minds
Summary: Lance whirls around, panting, to meet the other boy’s eyes. “What! What could you say that could possibly fix this train wreck of a night?!”Keith pauses before speaking. “Do you…want to go get McDonald’s?”--Keith, Lance, and the truth.





	could this be light

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is based off that headcanon floating around tumblr about keith and lance getting mcdonalds late at night
> 
> title from white by odd future

“Keith,” Lance shouts as he slams the front door to the wall, barging into his own apartment, “my best friend, my buddy, my pal! We’re going to a party tonight.”

 

Keith doesn’t take his eyes off Lance’s TV as he answers. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

 

Lance sighs dramatically as he drops his bags to the floor unceremoniously and heads to his cramped kitchen. “Would it kill you to say, just once, ‘Sure Lance! Sounds great! You’re so handsome!’”

 

“Yes, it would,” Keith replies, his lips quirking up slightly. Lance returns to his living room, furiously chewing on a granola bar, to stand in front of the TV.

 

“Also, why are you in my apartment when I’m not here again? Don’t you have your own? Why did I burst in expecting you to be here anyways?”

 

He shrugs. “I’m here all the time anyways. Also, you leave the spare key under the mat. You’re going to get robbed one day, and it’ll be your own fault for being so obvious.”

 

“No, I’m not that obvious—y’know, I know you’re changing the subject. You can’t pull a fast one on this sharpshooter.”

 

“Sharpshooter? Hate to break it you, ‘sharpshooter’, but being able to throw blue shells in Mario Kart doesn’t count.”

 

“Your blatant disregard of my amazing shooting slash video game skills is not my point at this moment,” Lance says, managing to catch Keith’s eyes for a brief moment. “Please go to this party with me.”

 

Keith groans, “Why should I?”

 

“Keith, I swear, if you go to this party with me, I’ll owe you. I  _ swear _ ,” Lance says, getting on his knees in front of Keith, hands clasped together in mock-prayer.

 

Keith looks down at him from his position on Lance’s shitty couch, hopelessly attempting to not think of any other situation in which the other boy would be on his knees. He squints suspiciously. “Who else is going to this thing?”

 

Lance’s begging pout turns into a pleased grin as he shoots up his feet to his full height. “Shiro and Allura are going, and so are Pidge and Hunk. At the very least, you and Pidge can be your little cute shy selves and sit on the sidelines.”

 

“Then why do you need me to go?” Keith asks, turning his head back to the TV to hide his blush at the casual compliment.

 

“Keith.”

 

“Lance,” Keith mimics back.

 

“Please, just—for the love of God—“ Keith turns his head back to Lance at his frustrated tone, “I’m worried about you, okay? Ever since Shiro moved in with Allura, you’ve been, well, a little—“

 

“Spit it out, Lance,” Keith grits out.

 

“You’ve been pouting, okay? You mope around with your mullet and your weird documentaries—“

 

“They’re not weird, you’re weird,” Keith grumbles under his breath.

 

“—And you haven’t really spoken to Shiro since then. His body may be made of stone, but his emotions are not. So please, get off your  _ ass _ , and go to this party with me to see your brother, before you do something you’ll both regret,” Lance says, ending with an indignant huff.

 

Keith finally looks up to make eye contact with Lance, his mouth pursed. Lance’s arms are crossed across his broad chest, the veins in his forearms subtly standing out while his eyes sparkle with determination. He’s a goddamn vision, even when he’s annoyed with Keith.

 

“Fine,” he says at last, “I’ll go. But I’m not making any other promises.”

 

A smile seemingly beams from the sky itself onto Lance’s face. “I knew you’d come around.”

 

\--

 

They climb into Lance’s rusty blue car around seven o’clock, the late May sun beginning to set in the west. Lance immediately turns the car radio volume up too loud to think, let alone speak. Keith allows him to blast his semi-underground indie music for one song, feigning annoyance, before nudging him to change it to something they both knew. Lance turns it down to an appropriate level and resumes tapping his hands on the steering wheel to the beat.

 

“Is this party on the other side of town, or something?” Keith asks.

 

“Yeah, sort of. It’s at Shay’s house,” Lance replies. 

 

“So we’re definitely going to tease Hunk for his crush tonight, right?”

 

“You know it,” he answers with a devilish smirk.

 

They’re rolling up to a red light when Keith speaks again. “All our friends have better love lives than us, when you think about it.”

 

Lance gasps exaggeratedly, and brings a hand up to clutch at his heart. “How dare you! I get all the guys, gals, and nonbinary pals. I am a pillar of bisexuality.”

 

Keith rolls his eyes, trying to hide his real aggravation at the thought of Lance with someone else. “Yeah, right.”

 

“I get it, you’re jealous,” Keith sucks in a deep breath, turning to face the other boy in shock. “It’s not my fault I’m so beautiful, Keith.” He breathes out, relieved.

 

“I think the hot air is making you delusional,” he teases back, attempting to cover up his shakiness with a joke.

 

Lance chuckles under his breath, and he turns to face Keith. His lips are pressed together but his smile is warm, some indiscernible emotion flickering in his eyes.

 

Keith licks his lips, stomach twisting, and turns back to face the road. “It’s green.” Lance swears and hits the gas.

 

They spend the rest of the drive in comfortable silence before parking in front of Shay’s small home. The party is already well under way, the faint bass emanating from the windows and small groups of friends chattering loudly as they walked in without knocking.

 

Keith feels the anxiousness twist in his stomach. “I don’t know if I can do this, Lance. Shiro’s probably already mad at me.”

 

“Keith,” Lance says soothingly, leaning over to place a hand on Keith’s shoulder. The point of contact seems to burn. “I promise he isn’t, okay? I bet he’s just his usual confused self. He probably just wants to talk to you.”

 

“I don’t know if you noticed,  _ Lance _ , but I’m not exactly good at talking about my  _ feelings _ ,” Keith says irritably. With his luck, he’d try and work up the nerve to say what he really felt, and then stutter out an excuse to bolt. There was a reason he’d never tried to tell Lance how he felt about him either.

 

“Keith, you’ll probably only have to say one or two sentences for him to get the idea. He’s a weird, emotional mind-reader. Just go in and bro-hug it out, it’ll be that easy.”

 

Keith nods silently, his mouth twisting into a grimace as he wrings his hands together in his lap. “Okay.”

 

Lance’s returning smile is whisper-soft. “This party will be great.”

 

\--

 

“This party sucks,” Pidge grumbles over her drink to Keith, who grunts in agreement. The crowd of drunk, sweaty college students swirled around the middle of Shay’s living room while they clung to the outskirts. Lance and Hunk were stunning in the middle of the crowd, arms around each other’s shoulders and dancing like they never would again.

 

“What are they up to?” Shiro asks, sliding up next to Keith and Pidge with a red plastic cup in his hand. Keith freezes up.

 

“Just being their normal Lance-and-Hunk selves. Is Allura here?” Pidge replies.

 

“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen eating. Why?” Shiro says.

 

“I had a tech question for her. I’ll be right back,” she answers, pushing off the wall with one foot and snaking through the crowd, leaving Keith and Shiro alone.

 

Shiro seems to sense the hesitance in the air, and remains thankfully silent until Keith is able to gather his thoughts enough to open his mouth and ask, “Can we go talk somewhere? Alone?”

 

Shiro nods, and follows Keith through the house to the small, well-kept backyard. Shay’s dog, Bal, runs up to them both holding a Frisbee, and Shiro takes it and plays fetch while Keith sits down on a small wicker bench.

 

“What’d you want to talk about?” Shiro asks lightly, keeping his eyes on the dog to not spook Keith.

 

“I, uh…I wanted to talk about you moving in with Allura,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

 

“What about it?”

 

“I’m—I’m sorry I’m having such a hard time…dealing with it.” Shiro looks back at Keith in surprise, but Keith marches onward. “I’m happy for you and her, I think she’s great and I’m glad she’ll be my sister-in-law one day. It’s just an adjustment period, y’know?” He looks down at his shoes, the knot in his throat suddenly unbearable.

 

Shiro offers the dog one last pat before coming to sit next to Keith. “You know you’ll always be my brother, right?” Keith nods slowly. “Ever since that scruffy little eight-year-old walked into my house looking scared to death and asked if we could play Legos, you’ve been my brother. The fact that we’re not living together, or that I’m marrying someone, will never,  _ ever _ make us anything less than brothers.”

 

Keith nods again, bottom lip trembling.

 

“And you shouldn’t feel the need to apologize either. You’re allowed to have feelings Keith, and I’m glad you came to me instead of bottling them up,” Shiro continues, warm sincerity emanating from his entire body.

 

Keith doesn’t realize he’s crying until Shiro’s pulling him into a bone-crushing hug and cradling Keith’s head with his hand, gently petting his hair. He allows himself to be held for a few moments before pulling back and wiping his nose, trying to straighten out.

 

“Okay, that’s enough emotions for today,” Keith mutters ruefully, a small smile on his face.

 

“I don’t know man, Allura’s got me in touch with my sensitive side,” Shiro says, sighing dreamily.

 

Keith laughs softly and tries to push Shiro off the bench. “Gross, love.”

 

Shiro fixes him under a startling intense gaze. “What, like you don’t love Lance?”

 

“Wh-what? No! Why would you—why would you even say that. Why!”

 

Shiro hums non-committedly. “Sure, whatever you say, Keith.”

 

He groans and flops back onto the bench. “I hate you.”

 

“Nah, you love me,” Shiro answers with a pleased smirk.

 

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Keith sighs. Shiro laughs before pulling him in for one more hug.

 

A loud cheer comes from inside the house.

“We’d better go see what that’s about,” Shiro says. He stands up, and holds out an arm for Keith. They walk back into the house together, shoulders brushing.

 

Shiro veers off to look for Allura and Keith finds Pidge on the same wall again, the crowd dancing with even more fervor than before. She looked concerned, and was searching the crowd intently.

 

“Who are you looking for?” he asks.

 

“Lance,” she says, eyes narrowing, “I think I saw Lotor.”

 

Keith swears loudly and starts looking too, desperate to find Lance before Lotor inevitably would.

 

“Yeah, I know,” she huffs a bitter laugh in reply, “just our luck that Lance’s crown jewel of shitty exes would be here.”

 

“That asshole doesn’t even like parties,” Keith grumbles, “why is he here?”

 

“Beats me. Let me climb on your back so I can see better.”

 

Keith bends his knees without complaint, and Pidge scrambles onto his shoulders and continues scanning the mass of people. Finally, Lance appears with Hunk in tow.

 

“Hey, guys,” he yells over the music, “how are my favorite wall-flowers?”

 

“Lotor is here,” Keith says urgently.

 

Hunk gasps, his head snapping around to survey the room, “no, he is  _ not _ .”

 

All the blood drains from Lance’s face. “What?”

 

Pidge winces. “Yeah, I saw him walk in.”

 

“ _ Me estás tomando el pelo _ ,” Lance says fervently, ducking his head and attempting to hide between Hunk and the wall.

 

“I wish I was,” Pidge replies.

 

_ “¡Maldición! _ ” Lance hisses, before running off. Keith darts quickly after him, sending an apologetic wave towards Hunk.

 

He weaves through the crowd rapidly parting for Lance’s angry stalking. He looks behind himself, and turns back around in time to just barely avoid running right into Lance, standing stock-still in the middle of the room, eyes locked onto the impeccably dressed Lotor right in front of him.

 

“Lance,” Lotor says easily, casual malice alight in his eyes, “to what do I owe this honor?”

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Lotor,” Lance says flatly.

 

“Now, that’s not very polite, is it? Surely I’m owed some of your respect?”

 

“I don’t know what your motive is here, but Shay doesn’t like you as much as we don’t, so you’d better leave before she kicks you the fuck out,” Keith snarls, moving to stand protectively in front of Lance.

 

“I’m just here to catch up with my old boyfriend, is that such a crime?” Lotor says innocently.

 

“Given the way things ended, yes. Now get the hell out,” Keith replies.

 

“None of us want you here, least of all Lance,” Hunk adds, fighting his way through the crowd to stand at Lance’s other side.

 

“At least let Lance speak for himself,” Lotor drawls.

 

“I don’t want to speak to you, you  _ puto pendejo _ ,” Lance answers, clenching his fists at his sides.

 

“Well, I want to speak with you,” Lotor says, stepping dangerously close to Lance’s personal space.

 

Hunk moves to stand completely in between Lotor and Lance, and leans in, crossing his arms. “I’ll give you one more chance to back off, buddy.”

 

Lotor steps forward and tilts his chin up to look at Hunk ,  narrowing his eyes. “And what, exactly, are you going to do about it, tough guy?” Hunk looks ready to start throwing punches in the kind of rage-induced protective he only ever is for Lance, but Lance cuts him off before he gets the chance.

 

“ _ Chingate _ , Lotor. I’ve heard your bullshit excuses before; I don’t need to hear them again. Come on, Keith, we’re leaving,” Lance growls, grabbing Keith’s hand and pulling them together out the front door and into the yard.

 

Lance makes a frustrated noise in the back of this throat and lets go of Keith’s hand to run his hands through his hair, kicking at the ground. Keith immediately misses the warmth of his palm.

 

“ _ No puedo creer ese cabrón _ , walking in there like that!” Lance yells into the night, mostly to himself, “ _ quiero decir _ , the fucking balls on this dude,  _ pinche idiota _ ,  _ pedazo de idiota de mierda _ !” Keith watches warily as he continues to scream bilingual insults at the sky and wreak havoc on Shay’s already bare grass for a few more minutes before timidly approaching.

 

He places a singular hand between Lance’s shoulder blades. “Lance.”

 

Lance whirls around, panting, to meet the other boy’s eyes. “What! What could you say that could possibly fix this train wreck of a night?!”

 

Keith pauses before speaking. “Do you…want to go get McDonald’s?”

 

Lance blinks once, before his shoulders drop. He laughs wearily, taking the obvious out without a fuss. “Yeah, I do, actually. That sounds nice.”

 

“Do you want me to drive?”

 

“It’s my car, I’ll drive. You’ll probably crash her,” he says, with a cocky, teasing grin.

 

“How can I possibly ruin that rust bucket more?” Keith answers dryly. Lance gasps dramatically.

 

“That rust bucket got you to this party, buddy.”

 

“Barely.”

 

“I can leave you here, y’know.”

 

Keith scoffs at Lance, crossing his arms. “As if you could ever go through with that threat.”

 

Lance raises an eyebrow, before bolting to his car and making as if he would actually drive off without Keith. Keith walks alongside the car going two miles an hour, banging on the window until Lance stops and he slides into the passenger seat.

 

The radio is playing softly once more, and Lance hums softly under his breath. Keith watches the moonlight and streetlamps bounce off Lance’s cheekbones as he drives. He’s breathtaking, a vision made of silver and gold. Keith can’t believe this boy is his friend, his  _ best _ friend, his partner-in-crime. The want swells up so thick in Keith’s throat he nearly chokes.

 

They pull up to the McDonald’s drive-thru and bicker the entire way through ( _ “I’m from Texas, Lance, of course I think Whataburger is better” _ ), their argument culminating in Lance owing Keith a large fry and a six pack of nuggets on their next trip. Their drive to the park is quieter, just Lance belting with the radio while Keith looks out the window, trying his hardest to pretend he isn’t head-over-heels in love with the idiot currently singing all the words Kelis’ “Milkshake”.

 

They park, and Lance grabs their greasy bag of food and hops out of the car, bounding to the front and sitting down on the hood. Keith smiles to himself before also getting out and joining Lance in devouring their meals.

 

They’re eating in comfortable silence for a few moments before Lance starts getting antsy, looking over at him and looking away before they make eye contact.

 

“What are you doing?” Keith finally deadpans.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Keith hums. “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”

 

He’s about to bounce back with a sarcastic dig, but one look at Lance’s face, oddly blank, changes that. “Yeah, sometimes. I guess. Why are you asking?”

 

“I just feel like…” He sighs and puts down his burger. “I feel like I’m taking up space that isn’t mine to take. Does that make sense?”

 

Keith cocks his head. “Is this our normal, it’s-late-and-I’m-sad kind of mood, or…”

 

Lance huffs out a soft laugh, barely more than an exhale. “I don’t know. Maybe both? It just feels like…everyone already has a place where there’s supposed to be, and a person they’re supposed to be with. And I don’t have that, and I’m clogging up the space for other people too. And I’m worried I’ll never find the right person to take up space with.”

 

“I’m not sure this means that much coming from me, but, for the record,” Keith says, mustering up the nerve to look Lance directly in the eyes, “you’re taking up all the space I want you to have. In my life, I mean. You’re hogging the roof of this car right now.”

 

Lance throws his head back and laughs, and Keith sees stars.

 

“Of course it means a lot, Keith. You’re one of my best friends.” Keith’s heart clenches. “I’ll scoot over,” he says, and he does, patting the space right next to him in invitation. He nearly lurches off the car before cautiously sitting next to Lance, their whole bodies pressed side to side. He can smell Lance’s cologne, his shampoo, the remnants of the car’s air freshener. It’s just this side of overwhelming.

 

“Thank you,” Keith says.

 

“Well, yeah, no problem, wouldn’t want you falling off—“

 

“No, not that,” he says, “for everything else.”

 

Lance cocks his head. “Like what?”

 

“For getting me off my ass to talk to Shiro. And for going on late-night drives for burgers with me, even when you’re upset. For being…” he waves his hand over Lance’s figure, “you. You shouldn’t ever be anybody but you.”

 

Lance stares at him in awe. Keith hurries to open his mouth. “Sorry, that was weird—“

 

“No!” Lance shouts, before coughing. “No, it wasn’t. I’m, uh…I’m glad you’re in my life too. I—” He swallows hard. “I wouldn’t want anyone else. In your place.”

 

Keith stares back down at his food, hoping his blush isn’t as obvious as it feels. He doesn’t see Lance stare at him for a long moment before lying down on the hood, his head resting on the windshield.

 

“Can I ask why you’ve been thinking about your place in the universe?” Keith asks lightly, looking up at the stars.

 

“Lotor…made me feel like I didn’t belong. With him or with anyone else. Seeing him tonight just brought that back, I guess,” Lance says quietly.

 

Keith lies down next to him on the windshield. “Fuck everything about that asshole, honestly. No one has the right to be that good-looking and that much of a dick.”

 

“But isn’t he right?” Lance blurts out. “I mean, I haven’t dated anybody since him. And I didn't exactly have a good track record before him either. What if there’s no one for me? What if I’m just a pit stop for other people?”

 

“He’s dead fucking wrong, Lance.”

 

“But—“

 

“Listen to me,” Keith says firmly, sitting up on his elbows to look Lance in the eyes, “he’s wrong, okay? You’re—you’re amazing. You always take off your shoes when you go inside someone’s house, and you pet every dog you see, and you smile at babies in public, and sing too loud in the car. You’re funny and kind and you always try to help your friends, even when they don’t want your help. You deserve good things, Lance, and you deserve someone who will be good to you.”  _ Like me _ , he adds internally.

 

Lance looks like he’s about to cry. “You really think that?”

 

Keith sets his jaw, nerves be damned. “I do.”

 

A small smile unfurls across Lance’s face. “Thanks, buddy. Sorry for ruining late-night McDonald’s with feelings.”

 

“I mean, yeah, feelings are gross, but nah, you didn’t ruin it.”

 

He rolls his head over to look at Keith. “Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

Lance’s gaze drops to Keith’s mouth before flicking back up. He pushes himself off the car and onto his feet. “You ready to go home?”

 

Keith nods, trying to clamp down on his disappointment over not spending more time with Lance. He would always be greedy to spend as much time as possible with him. If Keith were a flower, Lance was the sun; a source of light and energy that echoed through him.

 

Lance gets in the car first while Keith stands outside a bit longer, tipping his face upwards as if he could absorb the stars. The breeze is still cool, but carries a hint of warmth from the quickly approaching summer. A song begins blaring as the car starts, and Lance’s surprised squawk makes him laugh quietly.

 

“This song is for slow dancing!” Lance says loudly from his seat, making Keith turn his head.

 

“Is that so.” Keith deadpans, trying very hard to seem like he wasn’t leaping at the chance to slow dance with the other boy.  

 

Lance doesn’t answer him, just clambers out of the car and sinks into a bow in front of Keith, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

 

HE doesn’t bother to hide his blush and takes Lance’s hand. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“But I’m  _ your _ idiot,” Lance replies, wiggling his eyebrows. Keith snorts.

 

“Yeah, you’re mine all right.” Keith winces internally at how possessive that sounded before allowing Lance to put his arms around his waist, and loops his own arms around Lance’s neck. He feels his stomach turn, absurdly nervous.

 

Lance sways them gently in place, his head tilting up often to look at the sky. Keith looks at him, drinking in the soft expression on his face, the heat on his hips where Lance’s hands rest. It’s too much and not enough; it’s more than Keith ever expected to get and less than what he really wants. His heart threatens to burst.

 

Lance catches Keith staring, and the corners of his lips quirk upwards. “You’re staring.”

 

He blushes even harder than he thought possible, already hyper aware of one, how much he’s been blushing tonight and two, that he looks at Lance like a dying man seeing God.

 

“So were you, if you noticed,” he retorts.

 

“I’m only teasing,” Lance says softly, “I don’t mind if you stare.”

 

Keith swallows hard, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. “You’re just saying that.”

 

Lance shakes his head. “I would never lie to you.” Keith feels a sudden surge of bravery, deep in his gut.

 

“Then I’m gonna tell you something, and you have to answer honestly.”

 

Lance raises one eyebrow. “Scout’s honor.”

 

“You were never a scout.”

 

“How would you know?”

 

“Your sisters told me, dumbass.”

 

Lance sighs. “I should’ve never left you alone with them. Whatever, just get to your point, dork.”

 

Keith takes a deep breath, and tries his hardest to maintain eye contact with Lance, despite how much his brain is screaming for him cut and run. He’s already been honest with Shiro tonight, he might as well tell the other most important person in his life the truth. 

 

“I’m in love with you,” he says, “and I know that might seem weird, or unexpected, and--I know we haven’t always had the best relationship, especially at the beginning, but we’ve been through a lot together since then. I think of you as my best friend and I think you feel the same way, and--” Keith’s voice breaks in half, and he feels the tears begin to well up. He squirms out of Lance’s now iron grip and takes a step back. 

 

“You said you would never lie to me, so...please tell me if you feel the same,” Keith continues, letting the tears fall now, “because I can’t go on without knowing anymore.”

 

Lance stares back at him, his face entirely open. “Oh, Keith,” he breathes.

 

Keith knows that tone--shock and confusion. Of course. How could  _ Lance _ ever feel the same way about him. He begins to turn away, his chest caving in, but Lance catches his wrists and spins him around before leaning in to cup Keith’s face in his palms and kiss him.

 

He gasps and melts into it, his hands coming up to grab Lance’s shoulders. Their teeth clack loudly, and they separate briefly before coming back together. Lance is crying too, his hands moving to grip the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck, before pulling back slightly, leaving barely any space at all between them.

 

“Keith,  _ mi cielito _ ,” he whispers between their mouths, “how could I not love you?”

 

Keith inhales deeply. “How--I never noticed. How did I never notice you--” 

 

“I thought I was so obvious,” Lance murmurs, his eyes flitting all over Keith’s face, “I thought you knew, and didn’t like me back, and just let me get away with being obvious because you were waiting for someone else.”

 

“I only ever waited for you,” Keith says. 

 

Lance sighs and pulls him back in, kissing him even deeper, making Keith’s toes curl. “I want to talk about this more, right now,” he says, pulling away, “but it’s late. I’m supposed to get you home…”  

 

Keith feels another sudden hit of adrenaline, and vaguely wonders where all this sudden confidence is coming from. “We can talk about it tomorrow morning. Come home with me first. Stay with me tonight.”

 

Lance swallows, hard, and Keith stares at the column of his throat. He’s dreamt about putting his mouth to that for years, and now it’s so close he can taste it. He reaches out and gently drags his fingertips down Lance’s neck, tracing his collarbones and letting his palm come to a stop over Lance’s heart. 

 

Lance sighs softly, and Keith feels it vibrate the chest beneath his palm. “You’re killing me, sunshine,” he says, leaning his forehead against Keith’s.  

 

“Is that a no? I won’t push, I’m sorry, “ Keith says.

 

“No, it’s a yes,” Lance says, “if you’ll have me.” 

 

“I asked, didn’t I?” Keith replies. Lance grins at him, and kisses all over his face, making Keith let out a particularly embarrassing squeak. The kisses then trail down Keith’s neck, Lance’s soft hands sliding up his sides, and the noise becomes a moan instead. 

 

“I’ll take you home,” Lance whispers into Keith’s neck. He pulls off, and Keith immediately misses his warmth. They get into the car and speed out of their parking spot, Lance’s hand firm on Keith’s thigh like a promise, heat slithering down his spine. 

 

Lance breaks several traffic laws on their way back to Keith’s apartment complex, and hovers directly behind Keith while he unlocks his front door, layering tiny kisses on the back of his neck. Keith drops his keys twice. 

 

Keith barely steps through the door before Lance is following behind quickly, kicking the door closed and pushing Keith up against the nearest wall. He immediately buries his face in Keith’s neck, and it’s all he can do to scrabble at Lance’s back, feeling entirely out of sorts. His neck is on it’s way to being entirely covered with the print of Lance’s mouth. 

 

“Bedroom,” Keith gasps, and Lance pulls off of him, eyes hungry. They trip over each other stumbling into Keith’s sparse bedroom, losing their shirts as they go. Keith manages to back Lance into the foot of the bed, and pushes him down gently. 

 

Keith climbs over and straddles Lance’s thighs in one smooth movement, reveling in the choked groan Lance lets out as his hands curl possessively around Keith’s hips, before linking their mouths together yet again. The full gravity of their position sinks deep in Keith’s gut, and he moans softly into Lance’s mouth, one hand tangling in his wavy brown hair and the other resting on the smooth juncture of his shoulder and neck. His jaw starts to ache with how deeply he’s kissing Lance, the air being all but forced out of his lungs.

 

“Where do you want me?” Lance says, pulling away to breathe.

 

“Everywhere,” Keith replies. 

 

“Need a more specific answer than that, sweetheart.” He squirms at the endearment, and Lance notices, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Oh, is it the nickname that does it for you, baby?”

 

Keith ignores him and instead moves to leave a hickey at the base of Lance’s neck, his silence on the matter deafening. 

 

“Darling, all you have to do is ask,” Lance gasps, “I’ll call you anything you want.” 

 

Keith hums into his neck. “I thought we were supposed to be discussing where I wanted you.” 

 

“And that is where?”

 

“I haven’t decided yet,” he says innocently, slowly trailing his mouth down to Lance’s chest, “I think I need to suck your dick first and think about it.” 

 

He works on leaving another hickey, and Lance moans. “Works for me.” 

 

Keith slides down the other boy’s chest with ease, reveling in the softness of his skin, the warmth. Lance is his own little sun. He settles between his thighs, tracing Lance’s hip bones with his fingertips, smirking at the breathy sigh he lets out. He curls his hand gently around the base of his cock, bringing the head to rest on his tongue, gazing up at the other boy. 

 

He groans, one hand coming up to tug lightly at Keith’s hair, the other gripping the sheets next to him. “Oh,  _ hermoso _ , I imagined this for long and--here you are.” Keith takes the rest of his cock into his mouth, and Lance throws his head back.

 

Keith sucks like he’s making up for lost time, hollowing his cheeks and bringing his hand up to cover what his mouth can’t. The other boy’s hips twitch underneath him, clearly straining to not give into the urge to fuck his throat raw. His hands tighten in Keith’s hair, and he finds he doesn’t mind it, enjoying the slight edge of pain. 

 

Lance notices, attempting to put on an arrogant smirk through the waves of pleasure. “Do you like that? That’s filthy, honey.” Keith manages to glare up at him, running his tongue under the head of his cock. “Shit, ok,  _ cojeme _ , ok.” 

 

He can tell the other boy is close, and pulls off, jerking him with one hand and leaning back up to keep kissing him. Lance sighs softly into his mouth and switches their positions abruptly, pinning one of Keith’s wrists to the bed. He grinds down achingly slow, and Keith feels entirely breathless, his heart close to bursting. He reaches between them and begins stroking Lance’s cock again. Lance buries his face in his neck, and does the same to Keith’s. 

 

They match each other’s pace, the pressure and heat building. Keith can’t remember sex ever feeling like this with anyone else, and he feels the tears well up behind his eyes. He wraps a leg around Lance’s waist, biting into his shoulder, and comes. Lance follows him shortly after, swearing lowly. 

 

Keith reaches down and drags his fingers through their combined mess on his stomach, and sucks them into his mouth, looking at Lance through hooded eyes. 

 

“ _ Mierda _ , angel,” He says, trying to catch his breath. 

 

“Yeah, same here,” Keith replies. The exhaustion catches up to him suddenly, and he lets his eyes drift shut. The other boy collapses on top of him. “Get off me, we’re gross and I’m hot.” 

 

“Well you  _ are _ hot--” Lance begins, tuning out Keith’s deep sigh, “but I’ll roll over. Where’s your towels?”

 

His arm flops in the general direction of his bathroom, and the other boy saunters away, coming back quickly with a wet towel. He wipes them both down gently, and throws it back towards the door. 

 

He flops back down next to Keith. “What are your feelings on cuddles?” 

 

“Get over here,” he replies, lifting his arm for the other boy to get under. 

 

“Aw, how’d you know I like being the little spoon sometimes?”

 

“You are literally the clingiest person alive.”

 

“Oh, fuck you.”

 

“Already did.”

 

“That was awful, is this how you feel when I joke like that?”

 

“One hundred percent.” 

 

“Oh, it’s  _ on _ .” They play wrestle until Keith manages to cage Lance in his arms, and Lance melts.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Keith whispers, face hidden in Lance’s shoulder. The word beautiful seems too small to define the other boy. He needs a whole dictionary dedicated to the slight curl in Lance’s hair, to the slope of his nose. 

 

“No, you’re so beautiful.”

 

“It isn’t a competition.”

 

“It is, and you’re winning.”

 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Keith says, “I’m pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” 

 

Lance goes silent, and he looks up to see a deliciously pink blush dusting the other boy’s cheeks. “Oh yeah? Have you ever looked in a mirror?”

 

“Just accept the compliment, Lance.”

 

“Fine.” 

 

The moon casts an even blue light over the room. Keith is slowly drifting into sleep, Lance tracing shapes gently all over his body, softly singing something about planets and being twenty-three.

 

\--

 

Keith wakes up by himself. 

 

It’s jarring, and he spends the first thirty seconds panicking, thinking _ I should have known, how could he pick me-- _

 

But then he feels how Lance’s side of the bed is still warm, and hears singing from his kitchen, and allows himself to relax. He sinks into the sheets and stretches languidly before finally pushing himself out of bed, blearily rubbing his eyes. 

 

Lance is swaying and shimmying in place at the stove, a frilly apron tied around his waist that Keith didn’t even know he owned. Something upbeat and old-sounding is playing at volume that is, frankly, too loud for the hour. Lance is singing softly, having not yet noticed the other boy behind him.

 

“What are you making?” Keith says. Lance starts, and turns around brandishing the spatula like a weapon. He relaxes once he sees the other boy, and smiles brightly.

 

“You had some eggs and bacon that were going to expire soon, so I thought I’d make us some, if that’s okay.”

 

“I love you,” Keith says. 

 

Lance inhales softly, not speaking for a moment. “I love you too,” he replies, voice quiet. “I thought maybe I’d made up that part.”

 

“What, the part where I confessed my love to you over McDonald’s in a parking lot? No, that happened.” 

 

He snorts, sets down his spatula, and walks over to slide his arms around Keith’s waist. “Can you blame a guy for being a little confused? Yesterday morning I thought I’d have to pine over you forever and this morning I’m making you breakfast because you told me you loved me. That’s a big change.” 

 

“Yeah, I get it. I also thought yesterday morning you were never going to feel the same, so…” 

 

“We’re a couple of dumbasses, aren’t we?”

 

“Yeah.” Keith looks back over Lance’s shoulder. “The bacon is smoking.” The other boy swears and rushes back to the stove. Keith holds in his laughter and sets about making them a pot of coffee and setting his tiny kitchen table. 

 

They eat in pleasant silence, waking up with each other and the world. Keith’s cat eventually wanders in, and Lance feeds her tiny pieces of bacon, until Keith fusses at them both and refills her bowl.

 

“You know better than that, Red,” Keith scolds.

 

“Aw, let her have some.”

 

“She’ll get sick, Lance!” He just chuckles at the other boy, going back to scrolling his phone.

 

“Do you have work today?” Keith asks.

 

“Nope, it’s my day off.”

 

He fidgets in his chair. “Do you want to...talk about this whole situation, then?”

 

“Sure,” Lance says easily. 

 

“I don’t know how to start, though.” He squirms even more in his chair. He’s vividly aware of how Lance in his apartment, looking soft and sleepy, is throwing him off. He wishes, suddenly, they were in Lance’s car. “Can we...take a drive? Maybe go back to your place so you can shower? I know you only use that one shampoo.”

 

A soft, yet still megawatt smile makes its way across Lance’s face. Of  _ course _ he can read Keith that well. “Let’s take a drive.”

 

It takes them no time at all to be heading down Main Street, the bustle of the Saturday morning brunch rush filling the roads. Lance reaches over and holds his hand after the first stoplight, and Keith turns to face the window to hide his blush. 

 

“So,” Lance says, “our feelings.”

 

“I feel like I made it pretty obvious I’m in love with you.”

 

“I mean, yeah, same here.”

 

“So, boyfriends?”

 

“Yeah, boyfriends,” Lance agrees, “but I’m not sure that, like, covers how I feel about you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, like...there’s this saying. A pet name, really. In Spanish.  _ Mi media naranja _ .” 

 

“...my orange half?”

 

“Yeah, but that’s just the direct translation,” Lance says, drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. “It means that...you’re my better half, basically. My other half. My mom always told me that my dad is her  _ media naranja _ , and how lucky she is to have him. And I never really felt that with anybody but you. I never wanted to feel like that with anyone but you.” 

 

They roll to a stop at a red light, and Keith leans over to kiss him like he never will again. 

 

“I never used to believe in cheesy stuff like that,” he begins. “You know the deal with my parents, and my life before I lived with Shiro. You know I don’t have a lot of hope, when it comes to things like love. But you...make me want to. You make me want to hope, and dance, and get late night fast food, and kiss you at red lights.”

 

“Oh, darling,” Lance says, “I will kiss you at red lights for as long as you let me.” 

 

They kiss again, smiling into each other’s mouths. The light turns green, someone honks behind them, and they speed off, laughing. Keith takes the other boy’s hand this time, and Lance brings it up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. 

 

“What do you want to do today, baby?” he asks. 

 

“Whatever, if I’m with you.” 

 

“Absolutely nothing but cuddles and Netflix it is. Should we make a grocery store trip for snacks?”

 

“Only if you promise not to get Cheeto puffs. I can’t watch you eat those with a fork out of a bowl again.”

 

“How dare you mock the best decision I ever made.” 

 

They bicker for the rest of the drive, but their hands stay firmly intertwined, and Keith feels more at peace than he has in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> translations (to the best of my ability/research, if something seems glaringly wrong pls tell me):  
> me estás tomando el pelo - a spanish idiom that doesn't translate exactly but means "you're pulling my leg" basically  
> maldición - goddamnit  
> puto pendejo - fucking asshole  
> chingate - go fuck yourself  
> no puedo creer ese cabrón - i can't believe that asshole  
> quiero decir - i mean  
> pinche idiota, pedazo de idiota de mierda - fucking idiot, piece of shit idiot  
> mi cielito - my little sky  
> hermoso - beautiful  
> cojeme - fuck me  
> mierda - shit  
> mi media naranja - my orange half (literal), my soulmate/better half (actual)
> 
> playlist for this fic:  
> i want to kiss you - the spook school  
> hollow life - coast modern  
> see you again - tyler the creator  
> andromeda - gorillaz  
> daggers - scotch mist  
> teenage blue - dreamgirl  
> destinado a morir - miguel  
> she - tyler the creator & frank ocean  
> white - odd future  
> baby - carla thomas  
> heroes - david bowie


End file.
